


Goodbye, Mr. Fell

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Series: Miss Ashtoreth & Mr. Fell Have a Torrid Affair [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (no actual people are being cheated on in the fic’s reality), And Kisses? Also A Motif, But Also: This Time Shit Gets Real, Cunnilingus, Don't Worry Though It's Not For The Sex Stuff, Doors Have Become A Motif In This Fic Apparently, Established Relationship, F/M, Fantasies of Infidelity, Fantasy, Get Ready For: Comedic Hijinks!, Hold On Am I Doing An Essay On My Own Fic, Penetration, Riding, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Thaddeus Is Here!, The Wedding Ring? Another Motif, There Are Only So Many Ways You Can Write Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Well Folks This Is Definitely The Last In This Series, aight imma head out, female!Crowley, male!Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 10:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are at the end of the line with Mr. Fell and Miss Ashtoreth. The truth comes out.





	Goodbye, Mr. Fell

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thoroughly thank a reader for being the reason this fic was made: DelusionalGingerWolf commented on my last installment, what was supposed to also be the last installment, and it gave me the inspiration I needed to continue this series. You have no idea how much that is worth.

Mr. Dowling could not sleep. It was the ever-lingering jetlag from flying from one side of the pond to the other in short intervals. And maybe he was up due to stress, or whatever. He didn’t know about all that. His wristwatch on the nightstand showed 23:48, and instead of tossing and turning some more, he got up and slid into his loafers. 

He thought he’d go to his office, look at some of his papers: that usually did the trick. He walked by the enormous windows in the hall, looking through them to behold his enormous garden. It was the dead of night out there, but he could skim the figures of the well-trimmed bushes and flowerbeds that he stared at almost admiringly. 

There was a low light through the curtains in the little cottage on the other side of the estate’s grounds. _Mrs. Ashtoreth and Francis can’t sleep either, huh?_ He wistfully pondered. 

But Mr. Dowling was drawn out of his tired spell when he caught something moving out there. A figure. A human figure, a man-like figure, someone walking on the grass at a brisk pace. The man looked to have short, bright white hair, though his gait said otherwise about his age. He seemed – spry, somehow. Like he was excited to go to the other end of the lawn. And then Thaddeus realized, the man – he was advancing toward the cottage. And he was holding something in his right hand, his trigger-hand – could it be a firearm? Thaddeus blinked. Or maybe a wine bottle. It was so murky outside; it was hard to tell. 

Thaddeus reached for the phone beside him. He was about to press the landline’s button for Security. Why did he hesitate? An intruder was literally trespassing on his property(or, well, the Government’s property, technically). It was in Thaddeus’ God-given nature to react defensively to something like this. But – what if it was just a servant going to the cottage for something? Although, really? At nearly midnight? Really? But he could be mistaken. And it would look strange on him to be mistaken in such a case. Thaddeus took his thumb off the button and looked at the hunting rifle mounted on the wall instead. He wasn’t going to sleep now anyways. 

\- 

“Mr. Fell –” Miss Ashtoreth inadvertently softened at the sight of him, standing outside her door, “I was just getting ready for bed. I'd given up hope of you coming.” 

“Forgive me for being late,” Mr. Fell took her free hand to kiss its back, “I had a long day. But I couldn’t leave you alone on a night like this.” 

The door shut itself behind them as Aziraphale stepped closer. He presented the bottle and glasses he had in his other hand. “An apology.” 

Crowley smiled radiantly. “You shouldn’t have...” 

They walked to the livingroom-bedroom combo and Aziraphale opened the bottle with a little finesse, pouring two glasses. Crowley's ring-less hand received one of the glasses, clinking it to Aziraphale’s. They had a mutual sip, savoring the sensation of the atmosphere. 

“Apology accepted, Mr. Fell.” Miss Ashtoreth put her glass down(a bit reluctantly, as it was a fine year) so she could lean in against him, her hand caressing his face. She lingered; the first kiss wasn’t in any hurry. 

Aziraphale felt heated at such a simple gesture. In turn, he felt around her silky robe at her waist, tugging lightly on the belt to open. The fabric slid off her shoulders with a little help. Aziraphale loved it when Crowley wore that black slip she had underneath, he couldn’t explain it, he just did. 

“The way you look tonight, Miss Ashtoreth – you’re so ravishing... So beautiful.” He could just brush his lips closer to hers, that didn’t count as giving in to her kiss yet. “You’ve thoroughly tempted me.” His glass was also put away in order to hold her round her naked shoulders. 

“I think it might be mutual, Mr. Fell.” In a sneaky move,  Crowley’s hands began unbuttoning Aziraphale’s shirt stealthily from the bottom. Aziraphale definitely didn’t notice, not at this point. He instead leaned into that kiss, giving in completely. 

Crowley's face was cupped by his hands as the kiss evolved, deepened, it shifted angles and became several new things over the next moments in their time. Crowley was nearly done with Aziraphale’s shirt when she decided it wasn’t enough, she went on to surreptitiously unzip him so she could feel him in his full form under her fingers. 

Aziraphale’s hands had migrated, they had decided to slide the dress’ skirt up enough to notice that there was nothing more between him and Crowley’s skin there. A surprised moan was in order. He could trail over her rear, coming around to her cleft to feel her in between. Crowley answered in a moan as well. 

The bed was so close by, yet it was the armchair directly behind Aziraphale that they fell into a little clumsily, still kissing like it was air, warm hands still in places. 

“I can’t wait any longer, not tonight –” 

“Miss Ashto – _Ah_!” Aziraphale got a taste of her frenzy when she took him out to stroke him, to make him the best he could be. 

“It’s what you get for making me wait, Mr. Fell.” Another wild kiss ensued as Crowley pressed herself to him, rutting against him – 

And then there was a knocking at the door. An insistent knocking. 

And they looked at each other with a pang of adrenaline and fear. Crowley looked at the door, then looked at Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked at the door and then it knocked again, and he looked back to Crowley with even more panic. “_Who_ –?” 

Crowley finally got her senses back enough to get up, adjusting her dress with a ferocity that could’ve ripped it. “Hide! Just _hide_!” She hissed while scrambling for her glasses, Crowley got them on as best as she could in half a second and flung the door open. 

“Mr. Dowling – what a surprise..?” Crowley squawked, awkwardly half-hiding behind the door, not wanting her employer to see her clad only in her chemise. 

“Uh,” Mr. Dowling looked as puzzled as she was, as he stood there, bathrobe on, a hunting rifle uneasily cradled in his arms. “Are you alright, Mrs. Ashtoreth?” 

“Hm? Yes, why, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Only I – I thought I saw a man force entry into your home. I was up. I couldn’t sleep, is all.” 

Crowley’s face stiffened. _What in heaven..?_ “Well, that – you must’ve seen wrong, you must’ve mistaken it for a – ff_fox_. Seen them running over the plains all the time, in the night. When I'm up, that is. I'm not up at night that often. It's just, when I am, I see foxes – running about.” 

“Oh. Huh. Well, then.” Thaddeus almost looked as if he was going to chalk it up to being a slightly embarrassing misunderstanding and go back to his bed.  Then his unfortunate American impulses kicked in; he decided to make obligatory small talk.  “You wear your glasses even when it’s dark out?” 

“Yeah – yes, it’s, y’know, a condition. Got sensitive eyesight, the, the light perception is all – bad. Even the slightest bit of direct light and – I'll be down for the count.” 

“Ah. Okay. I don’t wanna impose on your evening, I’ll just –” Mr. Dowling fixed his gaze on something else: the coffee-table. _The wine. Bugger_. 

“Oh, were you just now enjoying a glass of wine? I didn’t know you were a sommelier of sorts.” 

Crowley didn’t want to humor him. Also she didn’t know a lot of French, but she was almost certain he wasn’t using that term correctly. More importantly, she had no idea how to get him out of the cottage quicker. “Oh, yes, yes, I like a glass in the evening. You know what they say; a glass of red at night – sailor’s delight..?” 

Thaddeus frowned a bit. “You’ve got two glasses there, though.” 

“_A glass or two,_ I enjoy a glass or two in the evening.” 

“Oh, I see. And where’s your husband, Francis? How is he?” He spotted the empty bed. 

Crowley made a stalling noise for just a little too long. “He’s. Well, uh, he’s. He is – not home tonight. He went to see – his great-auntie. In Belfast – shire – uh, upon Thames,” Crowley knew he wouldn’t know better, “just overnight. He'll be back tomorrow, first thing. And he’s alright. But he’s not here tonight, at all.” 

“Oh, uh, good, then.” Thaddeus looked as if he just now realized how he was still holding the rifle, so he sheepishly lowered it to his side. “I should go, Mrs. Ashtoreth, sorry to have disturbed you. I bid you a goodni–” 

Crowley waited in vain for him to finish the sentence, but she saw his eyes fix upon something in the room again. It spelt trouble, but she couldn’t stop him before he drew his weapon into position and whispered to her, barely audible: 

“Mrs. Ashtoreth – step aside; there’s a _man_, hiding behind your _curtain_.” 

_Ah, fuck._ Crowley turned. A pair of calf-leather quarter brogue oxfords in tan brown peeked out underneath the curtain, filling Crowley with dread. She couldn’t even say anything. 

Luckily, Aziraphale’s angelic hearing saved him from getting discorporated. He swished open the curtain, but to Crowley’s horror he still looked like Fell. “Hello! Sorry, sorry, terribly sorry about the, uh, misunderstanding –” 

Thaddeus kept his stance. “And who is this?” 

“I.” Aziraphale properly stepped outside the curtain to make things less awkward(not succeeding). “I, I am Ezra Fell. I'm a – a bookshop owner.” 

Crowley had never wanted more in her existence to hide her face in her palms out of sheer embarrassment. 

Aziraphale motioned for Mr. Dowling to lower his gun. “It’s alright, I’m supposed to be here, I swear – right, Cr – Lilith?” Aziraphale nearly forgot Crowley’s cover, as he wasn’t used to using it in that informal manner. He had decided then and there that their relation was informal. He hoped bitterly that it would be the right choice. 

Thaddeus still wouldn’t yield, looking skeptical. “But who are you? Why were you –?” He gestured to the curtain. 

Aziraphale made a genuinely nervous chuckle. “Ah, hah, uh, you see, I'm – Lilith’s … cousin? And. We were – playing a game. That one where a person hides, and the other person... does something else...” 

“Cousin?” Thaddeus said at the same time Crowley was screaming it in her head. 

She finally snapped back to reality. “Yes, Ezra is my cousin. On my mother’s side. She – was blonde. Like her sister.” 

“And you two were playing hide-and-seek?” 

“Yep.” 

“Mh-hm.” 

“Really? Past midnight..?” 

Crowley’s internal screaming got louder. “Uh, we – no, we were not playing, _Ezra_ is just a bit of a joker. He was looking for something behind the curtain when you knocked, Mr. Dowling.” 

“Yes, in the windowsill. A – book?” 

“Yep. A book we couldn’t find, and it was really important we find it before Ezra had to go home, he’s got to catch the 1:30 departure, because he isn’t actually staying the night, he needs to go home to – Portsmouth.” _Oh, that one was actually believable_. 

“Right.” Thaddeus gradually lowered his rifle so as to not seem hasty. “Did’ya find it, then?” 

Crowley and Mr. Dowling looked at Aziraphale, who hadn’t realized he was being talked to. “Yes? Oh, yes, it sure was back here, all along, just a nice copy of –” With his hand inside the curtain again, Aziraphale conjured a paperback with a title of the first thing he was thinking of. “_Gun Safety for Beginners_?” 

Mr. Dowling stared at him. 

“Not that, not that you need it, ah, Mr. Dowling, was it?” 

Mr. Dowling cleared his throat then looked back at Crowley. “Right. I think I’m gonna head back to the main house. Sorry about the intrusion.” 

Thaddeus then looked at ‘Ezra’, almost as if he recognized something in him, but not quite . “And I guess if I'm ever in Portsmouth, I'll make sure to go visit your shop.” 

“Hn? Oh, yes, the – bookshop. Do stop by.” 

“Also, you should know your shirt is done up wonky.” 

Aziraphale looked down at himself, seeing his fatal error. “Oh. Thank you.” 

Mr. Dowling exited, gently closing the door behind him. Crowley counted down from thirty, making sure her employer was out of hearing-distance, before she promptly turned around. “_Why _didn’t you change? He wouldn’t have quirked an eyebrow if Francis was here to begin with!” 

“You know I can’t use my powers when I’m under stress! And I couldn’t very well be Francis when you told him that he’s not here!” 

“But you still hid behind the _bloody curtain_ – literally the worst place you could’ve hidden!” Crowley thought she was about to self-combust but then she counted to thirty again. Once more in balance, she gazed upon a sorry-looking Aziraphale firmly. 

“That yank may be gullible, but he’s not _that_ gullible, angel.” 

“He’ll buy it. I'm sure he will. He might have forgotten it all tomorrow. He could think ‘that was a strange dream, surely’ and – move on with his life.” Aziraphale made his hopeful but despondent voice. He knew it was half-hearted, but he just didn’t know what else to say. 

And it was all Crowley wanted to believe. “Yeah. Yeah. You're probably right. Humans forget.” 

“They do. Now, would you like to come back to bed?” 

\- 

It was day again at the Dowling estate. Mr. Dowling was in his office, nearly beating his record in Tetris, when he spotted the nanny walking past his open door. 

“Mrs. Ashtoreth?” He called out as he clicked his browser window away. 

The nanny backed up to stand in the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Dowling?” 

“Would’ya mind stepping into my office for a moment?” 

She did, wondering if she should close the door. It depended on what kind of conversation they were going to have. 

“You can close the door behind you, thanks.” 

_Uh-oh._

“What can I help you with, Mr. Dowling?” She approached the desk, but Thaddeus got up to see eye-to-sunglasses-clad-eye with her. 

“I thought I'd ask you what went down last night – what really went down, I mean.” 

_Uuuhhh-ohhh._

“That guy – Fell, – he’s not your cousin. Not really, is he?” 

A demon’s job description consisted of many components, one of the most important ones being: ‘Lie’. It is such an important point that it is in fact underlined, in red, twice, on the job description that is posted on Hell’s noticeboard. Why, then, did Crowley not know how to lie now? 

She merely let Thaddeus continue. “I personally couldn’t care what you do with your free time as long as it’s not criminal. Believe me, I’m no saint either. Just don’t tell the tabloids that.” He chuckled in that awkward American manner. “But if that Fell fella is seen on these grounds again – I just don’t think it’ll be good. And if Harriet catches wind of this, I mean, she roams the rooms at night too sometimes, she’d probably catch sight of him soon enough, and – y’know, she would never allow a flaw in Warlock’s nanny. So we’d have to let you go if that happens. For Francis’ sake too, I suppose.” 

Crowley made no outward signs of her perplexed state. “Of course, Mr. Dowling. I understand completely.” 

She closed the door behind her. Somewhere in the house a pipe sprung a leak, almost as if it had self-combusted. 

\- 

Brother Francis was tending to the pumpkin patch that had manifested overnight after the Dowlings had expressed a desire for Halloween decorations. In this economy, you’d do anything to keep your job. 

Aziraphale was, however, surreptitiously reading a pocket edition of _Maurice_(pumpkins tended themselves well with a bit of miracle-work) when a shadow was cast over him. Looking back, he saw Crowley standing behind him. 

“Got a minute?” 

“I have. These things tend to be fine left on their own.” He patted a pumpkin with a dumb grin. Crowley didn’t reciprocate, merely taking Aziraphale’s hand so they could walk to the cottage. 

Once inside, Aziraphale dropped his disguise and waited for Crowley to shut the door. “Dowling asked me about last night. It's not looking good.” 

“Oh. Can’t be that bad, can it?” 

“He said that I'll be fired if Fell is seen around these parts again. So, I guess it _is_ that bad.” 

Aziraphale certainly hadn’t expected that answer. 

Crowley sighed, hating to see him like that: speechless. “I dunno what to do. If you’ve got any ideas, anything at all, then out with it.” She fidgeted with her ring. 

“I wish I did – I've got none except for the obvious one, I suppose.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Fell goes away.” 

“... Yeah.” 

Crowley sighed again. 

“We’ll keep it at that until we think of something better?” She turned the doorknob again. But she didn’t open the door itself. “Or we get more careful. No going outside unless disguised. Shouldn't be that bad.” 

“But – we might slip up. And he’s already suspicious of you. We'll never know how it happens, but it’ll be a matter of when one of us forgets or something. I mean – it’s not worth the consequences, Crowley.” 

Crowley let go of the knob, making sure the door was firmly closed. She wasn’t done talking after all. “Hm. You seem quite adamant about finishing this. Didn't realize.” 

Aziraphale made an expression of disbelief. “No, it’s not like that. I just_ know_ –” 

“No, no, no, no, Aziraphale, I get it, it’s all good. Just dandy.” 

“_No_, Crowley, I only meant it in the sense that our mission is too important to risk over something minor like this.” 

_Ouch. _“Yeah, yeah – yeah. No, I get it. I get it. I catch your drift. ‘S pretty convenient for you, is all.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t believe this. “What are you on about?” 

“You needed a way out, I get it. It’s a pretty perfect tactic too, get a third party involved to jeopardize the situation to give you enough grounds to terminate – _this_,” Crowley wildly gestured between them, “so you don’t have to tell me directly that you feel uncomfortable around me now. Because of last time. I overstepped the mark. But you’d never tell me.” 

The dusty silence in the cottage overwhelmed Aziraphale. “Crowley –!” 

Yet he couldn’t spew his words like she had. Crowley adjusted her glasses slightly, then properly turned the doorknob and headed out. 

\- 

When you’ve known someone for six thousand years, you know what to expect when they’re upset. Aziraphale knew to wait it out. That had worked for every other skirmish in their time together. He'd wait for Crowley to come back once cooled down, and then they’d not bring it up again. 

She didn’t come home that night, though. Crowley's shift had ended two hours ago if Aziraphale remembered correctly. He told himself not to worry, it wouldn’t be the first time this had happened. He whiled away the time by reading, the easiest way to pass the hours. Still no Crowley at ten, eleven, soon midnight. 

Aziraphale had himself a full glass of that wine from yesterday. It just didn’t taste as good now. That certainly didn’t help his jitters. _No, nothing has happened, she couldn’t have gotten into trouble that she can’t get out of herself._ But it didn’t stop him from thinking about the possibility that Crowley might’ve resigned to keep a distance from him. _She wouldn’t risk the mission like that. It'd be detrimental to her career. No. Certainly not that._

He kept the front door open just a sliver that night. Just in case she’d come home. 

Aziraphale had never been good at sleeping. He thought he’d try again now, see if he could do better this time. Lying in that bed only made him feel more uneasy. The hours dragged along. He somehow ended up shutting his eyes for long enough to slip away in a dreamless sleep. 

It didn’t last, though. Next time Aziraphale opened his eyes, he looked around to see a still-empty bed around him. He reluctantly shut them again. 

\- 

In the gray light of what was soon to be dawn, Aziraphale awoke again, this time finding Crowley’s freckled back next to him. She was lying on her side, breathing as if she was sleeping. _Oh, thank goodness._

However, what would he do? He had stuck with his plan of waiting it out, but that was last night. Now, he wasn’t so sure. 

He turned around and sat up to see her better from another angle. She looked normal, all to Aziraphale’s relief. _Talk to me, Crowley. I thought I could, but I can’t stand this. _

“Are you just going to stare at me?” A sleepy voice was heard, “Or am I really going to have to do all the talking as usual?” 

Aziraphale stumbled internally. What _do_ you say to that? 

“Fine. ’S not a problem for me. We don’t have to talk again. I won’t do that to you.” Crowley still had her eyes closed. What Aziraphale didn’t know, was that it was too hard for her to see him in the eye right now. Her coldness was merely a symptom of that. 

“Crowley –” Aziraphale sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk.” 

“But you never say anything of worth in response. You certainly didn’t yesterday.” 

“Sometimes – it’s like you won’t let me talk.” 

Now Crowley was silent. 

“Like you don’t want to hear it either. Do you want to hear it or not?” 

And she stayed silent. 

“I was pushing for getting Fell out of the picture, yes. But it’s not as simple as me not wanting – _you_, anymore.” Aziraphale took a deep, wholly unnecessary breath. “I was hoping, quietly, that we might be done with Fell and Ashtoreth. Because – I – hoped for a new start. With you. Where we don’t have to wear our masks, so to say. But I didn’t – I don’t know what you would think. So I shelved that away.” 

Crowley hadn’t stirred that whole time. Aziraphale even thought she might not have breathed for a minute or so. 

But she got up, sitting upright in the bed but still turned halfway away from him. “Alright. Fair.” 

“I thought you’d have more to say in response.” 

“I thought so too.” She turned enough to look at him. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Talking. We haven’t done that before. Not like this at least.” 

Aziraphale fidgeted a bit with his pajama shirt. “No, we haven’t – and yes, it is. It doesn’t feel – bad, though.” 

_It feels right._

“I’m – sorry. I didn’t let you speak earlier.” Crowley managed a whisper. 

“It’s better now.” Aziraphale didn’t know if he could take her hand then. He sure wanted to. But the sun was coming up and their work soon began anew. 

Crowley thought about something similar. But she also couldn’t bring herself to do it now. They'd wait for the right time, another time. 

\- 

There was a light drizzle in the air when Crowley’s shift ended, so the walk to the cottage became a powerwalk instead. When she arrived at the doorstep, her glasses were so fogged over with droplets, she thought she might as well take them off. _No humans in sight anyway._

Crowley was about to turn the key in the lock when she felt a presence near her. Turning, she had Aziraphale by her side, giving her a small smile. “Your shift done too?” He asked amiably. 

“Yeah. Didn’t know you were off at the – the same time. As me.” 

“I can’t work in the rain – it looks to be getting stronger. I usually wait it out inside.” 

Crowley nodded. “Good. Alright.” She turned the key and pushed open the door for them. 

Once inside, both began to shed their outfits quietly, ready to change into their own dry clothes. Aziraphale dropped his general disguise as fast as he could, the rest of his garb could come off manually. Crowley at least didn’t have to change back her face. 

Something happened, though. Crowley looked at Aziraphale. He looked at her. She looked over at her stack of casual clothes, deciding that she didn’t need them today. Crowley pulled her camisole over her head, looking at Aziraphale again. He blinked, then began removing his undershirt, too. The skirts came off, so did his trousers, a bra was unclasped, and pants hit the floor. Crowley's hair unraveled and suddenly, there was nothing left between them. 

One of them had to pioneer whatever was happening here. Crowley thought it’d be the generous thing to do. She laid down on the counterpane of the bed, her palm marking a spot for Aziraphale to lie in. He approached, taking up her offer. 

Lying side by side should’ve been natural for them by now. It wasn’t their first rodeo. It was, however, a different type of rodeo neither had been to. Lying on their sides, looking at the other, occasionally looking away because of that strange feeling that happens when you look into someone’s eyes for a little too long. The same – but different. 

Aziraphale's hand went out to Crowley’s. It was allowed to take hers, then bring her to Aziraphale’s lips to kiss ever so gently. Once his lips left her hand, Crowley leaned in to take over, and they kissed, breaking the spell. Everything became natural once again. 

Both became closer, Crowley’s hands went around Aziraphale to gently tip him over her to get him between her legs. But then Aziraphale rolled Crowley over himself with an angelic elegance, wanting her on top of him. 

“Oh – is this what you’d like?” She wasn’t protesting, though. 

“Erh, I don’t have a preference for you – for us – for any of it, really, I just thought –” Aziraphale stumbled, but he didn’t have to worry as Crowley kissed him with a smile. 

“I do like it, angel, but – “ Crowley rolled them over, “I don’t mind this either.” Her hands went around his neck, legs going around his waist. Aziraphale grinned wide, a scheme behind his grin and an utterly lovestruck glint in his eye. 

“We’ll see where we end up.” 

Then Aziraphale rolled them over again. 

“_Angel _—!” Crowley’s eyes panicked before the rest of her body as it met the floor at a rapid speed. Though, actually, Aziraphale went first as he was supposed to be under Crowley after what was supposed to be an elegant roll-over; he thumped to the floorboards like a sack of unaware potatoes. In the flurry of it all, their thick skulls managed to meet in the middle, bonking into each other with an uncomfortable sound. Once the dust had settled, Crowley cried out her longest ‘_fuuuck_’ yet. There was a lot of sucking of air through one’s teeth and wincing for a whole minute in the aftermath. 

Truly remarkable how not one, but two, ethereal beings that have been acclimated to Earth’s gravity for six thousand years managed to have so little spatial awareness. 

The groaning died down. To the surprise of both, a laugh was born in its place. Aziraphale laughed mainly because he was so happy to see Crowley like that. Last night he really thought he wouldn’t hear her, see her laugh again. In the midst of Crowley’s laughter, she leaned back down to kiss Aziraphale. 

Outside, the rain was a happy reminder for once; the sound of it getting more powerful, beating against the roof, reminded Aziraphale of the fact that he was on Earth, and on a smaller scale, of being right here with Crowley, for as long as the rain poured he wouldn’t have to be outside their cottage. It'd be just them for now. Crowley’s lips, his lips, the comfortable sensation of arousal being nurtured by their contact, Aziraphale knew somewhere that he couldn’t get that anywhere else. He blessed a higher deity for that rain. He blessed Crowley more. 

Her hands loved to touch Aziraphale, to feel his curls in her fingers, his soft belly, his rounded hips, then his contrasting hard cock, slipping into her hand, then guiding it to kiss her lower lips. Her clit kissed his wet head, a preamble to Crowley sinking down on him leisurely. 

She didn’t have to move all that much, Crowley just grinded at her own pace and felt Aziraphale relax entirely underneath her. Outside, there was a rumble of thunder in the distance, which felt like a familiar call to the two. 

Crowley did her best with what was at her disposal, but she soon found a fatal flaw. “Angel — I can’t — I can’t kiss you properly from here —” 

“Oh —” Aziraphale hadn’t minded the sloppy quality their kissing had turned into, but he’d always do what it takes. He pushed himself from the floor to sit up enough to be faced with Crowley, to have her hair in his hand and kiss her the way she deserved. This also enabled him to have her better, to cling to her back so Aziraphale could move with her, all while their lips were practically inseparable. Their moans didn’t leave their mouths and Crowley’s hands never wanted to leave Aziraphale’s curls, shoulder-blades, or cheeks, long. 

Aziraphale held Crowley as he took her up, lifting her for long enough to finally get them back on the bed so he could realize his full potential with her. With his feet still planted on the floor, Aziraphale had a perfect vantage-point to fuck Crowley into the mattress, to kiss her meanwhile and braid their fingers together as he held her hand down on the bed as well. 

This unleashed something in Crowley, who was swearing in between kisses and moans, letting herself be herself at last, feeling the full extent of Aziraphale’s affections and attraction by way of his consistent thrusts as he fucked her, kissed her, caressed her. 

“Crowley — my dear Crowley,” Aziraphale called in a whisper. When he uttered her name, she knew it felt like something new — it felt like _home_. 

“My dear — _oh,_” Aziraphale felt like he needed to pace himself a little as he was beginning to twitch, his cock was already more ready than he was. 

“No, no, don’t — don’t slow down —” Crowley breathed, “I don’t care, I just need you to feel good, keep going —” 

There wasn’t hesitation in Aziraphale’s body for once. He merely kept panting and kissing her as he kept his speed, kept fucking her and feeling Crowley all around him, even her other hand was around his neck to keep him close. 

Neither saw the lightning that glinted outside their windows, but both knew it was coming from the sound of thunder. The loud crash enabled them to let out those screams they had kept in for weeks — though it was probably more likely to have been some six thousand years in the making. 

And so did Aziraphale’s coming feel like, he just — let go. And Crowley was there to catch him. Even in his limbic state of being between orgasmic peak and denouement, he knew she’d be right there. 

As Aziraphale came back to his senses, he stepped back to kneel to the floor.  Crowley lifted her head up about to ask, but Aziraphale gave her a look as his hands slid from her knees up. They didn’t stop until they met in the middle, easing Crowley’s thighs up to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulders, fingers then coming to rest on her lips, caressing her. He slipped in, wetting his fingers with her, and Crowley laid her head back down with a moan. Aziraphale kissed her lips before licking her, spreading her labia with his wide tongue all while his fingers worked her open, and Crowley relaxed into the mattress though her toes curled in the air. 

Aziraphale worked his magic, though none was needed. He gave Crowley what she needed and deserved, his reward being the sounds of Crowley enjoying him, the feel of her thighs and cunt clenching and releasing around him, especially when he curled his fingers right to fuck her properly with them, getting those lovely responses all the while. 

“_Angel! Angel!_” Crowley repeated, it bore repeating, over, and over, for as long as it rung true. 

Aziraphale didn’t reply, his lips were busy. Crowley’s breath hitched over and over, she almost didn’t say more. “I’m — _fuck, angel _—” 

She refrained from tearing at Aziraphale’s hair, instead her blind hand sought something else to hold onto — and luckily, Aziraphale’s free hand was on her hip, ready to be gripped by her as Crowley exhaled, came, and released. 

All the air returned to the room. Outside, it sounded like the rain was going steady. Somewhere, a weather forecast would be changing from dry skies that night to eighteen millimeters of downpour. 

On the inside of Crowley’s gold ring, a name was engraved without her even meaning to. Her powers betrayed her. Aziraphale crawled back up to her. When they lied together that night, he held her ringed hand in his own. 

**Author's Note:**

> There it is, everyone: the end station, for really-real this time. I mean, I think. But I think I can say that I don't have any more ideas left in this vein of fic at least, but who knows, maybe there's spin-off potential?
> 
> Also Never mind the canon in which A&C can do Jedi mind tricks, none of that here. It makes for weak conflict. 
> 
> Also I referenced Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” in there somewhere because I'm always thinking about that song at least a little bit, I'm literally getting goosebumps just voicing the lyrics in my head it’s so good and Good Omens-y lol


End file.
